If God loves us, then why doesn't he...

A friend posted a question on her blog based on a number of comments friends had made to her. Basically it was whether we, as Christians, have a right to question God over his apparent inactivity in the face of our individual suffering (which in the grand scheme of things isn't actually suffering) when God has already made it blatantly clear that he loves us and has provided everything we need for daily life. Here's the response I posted; feel free to add your own comments - here or on her blog.

I understand both sides of the argument...

On the one hand:
... if God cared why did He take Zoe from us?
... if God cared, and taking her was the best thing, why did He let us fall pregnant with her in the first place? or why let the pregnancy go so far?
... if God cared, and taking her was the best thing, then why did He let her suffer a slow, lingering death?

On the other:
... I tangibly felt God's love and comfort and presence and grace through the initial weeks of our tragedy
... at least we got to have her with us, and get to know her a bit, for a while
... at least she's in a place now where she will only know the best and never the worst of humanity
... at least we have had the opportunity to experience what real friendship and love is from friends
... at least we have learnt the true meaning of community

There are always two (or more) sides to every story. When you are powerless but know Someone omnipotent it's hard not to question their apparent inactivity. Yet, as you point out, why should we feel we have a right to ask for more, when He has already given us everything. Maybe because great outpouring of grace in an age that is increasingly self-absorbed only inspires greater selfishness? I don't know.

All I can say is that in my personal walk I swing wildly from one extreme to the other. One day questioning his love, the next adoring him for his unfailing outpouring of love. To pretend that his sacrifice on the cross was enough for me would be a lie. It isn't. But then, I don't know that it was supposed to be ever be enough for us.

Maybe the part of us that cries out against God's apparent inactivity in the face of suffering and evil is the part of us that only truly comes alive when we accept Christ's death on the cross for ourselves. Maybe God brings that part of ourselves truly alive because that's the part of us that cries out for the 'not yet' to become the 'now', when the Kingdom comes in all its fullness and glory.

Maybe that's the reason that God doesn't seem to lose his patience with me, or give up with my endless emotional pendulum. Maybe God agrees with me that it's not fair... maybe God agrees with me that this fallen world sucks. Maybe, if we were still in Eden, Zoe would still be alive and with us, not just alive and waiting for us in heaven. I really don't know, but I hope so. Because if God is just idly sitting by while s*** happens to innocent little children then he's not the sort of God I want to worship - sacrifice or no sacrifice.

Grief at home and abroad

The past little while has been incredibly hectic. It feels a bit like being in a whirlwind. I don't really feel I've had much 'down' time recently, although by the amount of stuff that hasn't been done, I've obviously had quite a bit of 'down' time. I think all this activity has helped to keep my grief at bay.

Yesterday afternoon I decided that I simply had to clean the house and tidy up. I just couldn't let another day go past without it being done. But I didn't really want to do any of it. I was tired and irritable (again). So to help motivate myself I put on a New Wine CD I bought in 2005 because it had this cool song on it which really helped me transition through the grief of non-selection. I turned the volume up (and didn't feel at all guilty about the neighbours, for a change) and went into the kitchen to do the dishes... and promptly burst into tears.

Washing dishes when you can't actually see what you're washing was a new experience for me. I was very glad that there was no-one home in the flat that directly overlooks our kitchen, because I don't think I was a very pretty sight. I haven't had a soul wrenching sob like that for weeks now, so no doubt I was overdue one. (I did feel much better afterwards, if a bit hollow and fragile.)

At group last night the question was asked about a time in our lives when we have been able to praise God despite our circumstances. I promptly started crying again - nearly had to run out of the room (there was a new guy there and I didn't feel safe enough with him) but I managed to get it under control without anyone noticing (I think - or maybe they were all just too polite to comment). Just thinking about how awful I felt in the first week of Zoe's death, and how present God was... how loving He was... yes, I could praise Him despite circumstances, even if only to say that I knew He was doing the right thing and that He knew best.

It makes me ache for Madeleine's parents right now, remembering how I felt when we were told Zoe's heart had stopped. That moment... it's like the whole world stops turning for a second and everything goes black, and then, even worse, everything starts moving again, but you can't breathe. Without a doubt it was the worst moment of my life to date.

I don't know how many non-Brits/ Europeans are aware of this news story. A British family on holiday in the Algarve, Portugal. The parents went out to dinner a few hundred yards from their holiday villa and left the 3 kids sleeping in the villa. When they returned, the door was open and their eldest daughter, Maddy, who is only about 4, was gone. While I question the wisdom of leaving their kids alone at home, no-one deserves that kind of horror. I just keep thinking about how I would feel if anything happened to Nellie... Whether at home or while on holiday, whether through my own fault or through none - if anything happened to her I just don't know what I would do. It would eat me alive. I can only imagine what her parents are going through. My heart just aches for them. I pray she's found, alive and unharmed. Please God.